Witheredleaf
by TheFandomLesbian
Summary: For the WillowClan name challenge. An elderly, ill rogue has traveled long and hard for the chance to join ThunderClan. Now that she is near death, will Nightstar gift her all she has ever wanted? T for death. One-shot.


A small, old she-cat limped through the trees as she meandered through the territory with not much breath left in her lungs. She had been told to come here to the clan land. Someone would save her. Someone would help her. Someone would make her welcome in the afterlife-StarClan, as it was rumored to be called.

She limped further along. She could smell prey, but she moved heavily so that it sensed her before she could draw near. She heard it scuttling away, but she paid little heed even though it had been days since she had last eaten. She didn't feel hungry. She felt tired. She wanted to rest, but she felt that if she rested she would never rise again. She rasped with every breath.

And then a quiet, soft scent touched her tongue, her mouth, and she mumbled, "Help." Louder, she attempted, "Help!"

"Who goes there?" A large tom pushed through. "A rogue. What are you doing on ThunderClan territory?" His pelt was bristled and rough, and his claws were unsheathed. Most rogues could smell their scent markings and knew to avoid the large group of cats owning territory.

"Please," she whispered. "Help me. They said you would help me."

A smaller she-cat brushed by the tom. "Don't be stupid, Eagleblaze. She's older than Jaggedtooth-and she's ill, too. We have to take her back to camp."

The tom went rigid. "We don't have to do anything," he growled. He didn't like being ordered around; that much was clear through his body language. "Come now, Whitestep, she'll only drain our sources before leafbare. Is that what you want? Our herbs wasted on a rogue?" His tail lashed. "I say we leave her and tell Nightstar when we get back. He'll know what to do."

"She might not have that long," Whitestep snarled. "We need to take her to Meadowbush. Firepaw, Emberpaw, help me." Obediently, two smaller cats stepped around the angered warrior. Whitestep hoisted the rogue up by her scruff, and Firepaw and Emberpaw slid underneath her body, supporting her between them. The ruffled gray she-cat gave only a groan, and her flank rose and fell with every shallow breath.

After having settled the old she-cat in the medicine den, the patrol of four waited outside, listening to Meadowbush shuffle around inside the den. Nightstar waited with them, and he didn't speak to them. He didn't require anything of them, much to their surprise. He waited until the medicine cat allowed him in the den to speak to the she-cat, whose yellow eyes gleamed up at him. "My friends said you would be here," she breathed to him, voice nothing more than a bare whisper.

"You have bad green cough," the leader told her.

"I know," she rasped, "but I'm safe here. StarClan saves the cats who die in the clans."

His tail twitched. "StarClan saves everyone," he reported, though he didn't know exactly. He knew there had to be an afterlife for those who were outside the clan, but he didn't know what it would be-even as a leader he hardly knew what StarClan itself was like. "You are in ThunderClan," he reported, knowing nothing else to say. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"A warrior," managed the ancient cat. "I want to be a warrior-please-make me a warrior." Her eyes widened just a bit as they focused on him.

Nightstar had many questions for her, but he knew he didn't have the time to ask them. He cleared his throat, and in a soft voice that even those outside the den could not hear, he said, "Of course." He licked his lips and continued, "I, Nightstar, leader of ThunderClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down upon this cat." He didn't even know her name. "She has faced many battles and hardships in pursuit of the way of the warrior, and I commend her to you as a warrior in turn." He lowered his muzzle to the top of her head. "Do you promise to uphold the warrior code and protect and defend your clan, even at the cost of your life?"

"Yes," grunted the she-cat.

"Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. From this day forth, you will be known as Witheredleaf. StarClan honors your determination and dedication, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan."

"Th-an-k you…" she dragged out her last word with a final breath, and her eyes glazed over in death.


End file.
